


The Perfect Christmas

by emma_and_orlando



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Christmas Fluff, Comfort, Cravings, John is the best, M/M, Mpreg, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, pregnant Roger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:48:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28289439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emma_and_orlando/pseuds/emma_and_orlando
Summary: Roger has never celebrated Christmas before. John has to convince him to introduce Christmas traditions to their growing family.
Relationships: Background Maycury, John Deacon/Roger Taylor
Comments: 12
Kudos: 28
Collections: The Clog Factory Happy Holidays Fic Exchange





	The Perfect Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iamnotbrianmay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamnotbrianmay/gifts).



> For the holiday exchange I got you Maria!✨👀
> 
> This is for the sweetest most wonderful and kind and intelligent Maria❤️ (Maria Maria Maria) You wanted:
> 
> \- Fluff: Person A hates christmas because of several bad experiences with christmas, Person B (C,D) does everything in their power to give them their first good christmas.   
> \- Preg/Mpreg: Person A is heavily pregnant and is not in the mood for christmas or anything of the sort. They just want to lay on the bed and knit
> 
> And because it’s Christmas, you deserve everything ❤️🥰🙏🏽

It all started on December 11, when John glanced over at the calendar while making breakfast. 

He turns around to face his boyfriend sitting at the dinner table reading the morning paper, perched conveniently on his round belly. John clears his throat and Roger lowers the newspaper to look at him from over the top. "Yes?"

"We should set up the Christmas tree soon." 

Roger's eyes disappear behind the front page again. "No." 

John blinks. 

"Uhm... No?" 

"No." Roger states with a simple finality. "I don't do that." 

He props his feet up on the chair opposite of him and goes back to reading in silence as if nothing had been said at all. John is left to stare at the front page of the Daily Mirror— _**LOCH NESS MONSTER OFFICIAL!!!** Full Frontal Nessie: see centre pages_.

So Roger doesn't want to talk about the Christmas tree right now. Fine. John turns back to the stove to finish scrambling their eggs, plating his own to the side, before adding marshmallows to Rogers per his majesty's request. He sits down at the table next to Roger and doesn't mention the Christmas tree again in favour of asking Roger for those promised Nessie pics, which he shows with a bright smile in exchange for his breakfast plate. 

At first, John assumes this is one of Roger's hormonal things. One of his 'I was hungry, I'm sorry, things are different now' things. He gets those more and more often these days. 

Not that John holds it against him. The moods never last, Roger always returns to being sunny Roger. 

A few hours later, John asks about the tree again, while Roger is sated, having fried chicken dipped in ice cream watching Crown Court with his mouth full; in a good mood. 

John presses himself up close against Roger on the couch after finishing his own share of ice cream-less chicken. Roger eagerly leans into the touch and lets his head rest on John's shoulder without tearing his eyes away from the television screen. His plate of fried chicken is delicately balanced on top of his belly and the rapidly melting ice cream held in his left hand. 

John smiles at the heart warming sight and kisses the top of Roger's head. 

"What do you like more," John says with his lips still on Roger's smooth forehead. "An artificial tree or a real one?" 

At least this time Roger bothers to look up and frown. "We already discussed this. No tree."

"But I—" John's eyebrows knit together in confusion. Roger is arguably in the best mood he's been all day, all relaxed, pink cheeked and comfortable against John's side. This should be the best moment to ask.

Besides, this will be the first time they spend the holidays together. In the previous years, John used to go home to his family during the holidays when Roger used to live together with Freddie. This year was supposed to be special. It'll be the only Christmas they ever have together without a baby in the picture. 

"Why not?"

"Shush, the court hearing is starting." Roger shuts him up with a brief peck on the lips, before settling back against John to pillow his head on his arm and not allowing another word in when the show begins.

🎄🎄🎄

It's not easy to make Roger talk about something he obviously doesn't want to talk about. Especially not when he has the pregnancy to hold over John's head. 

But John is confused more than anything. 

Roger likes nice things, good food, family time, gifts and obnoxious lights. 

So, what about this turns Roger off so much that he didn't even want to talk about it? The holidays have put Roger in a particularly, uncharacteristic, grumpy mood. 

John gambles with his life and asks again, although this time they're in public, in the waiting room for Roger's scheduled ultrasound checkup. They see a poster on the wall with a red nosed reindeer on it. Roger makes a face before he leads them to sit down on chairs that face away from the posters.

"What's your problem with Christmas?" 

He half expects that Roger won't answer, but this time his boyfriend sighs deeply, one hand on top of his belly and the other in John's hand. John gives him a light squeeze to encourage him to speak. They're alone in the waiting room, in the quiet John can hear every breath Roger takes. Strained by the weight of the baby on his internal organs. 

"I have no affinity towards Christmas because we didn't celebrate it at my house. It's simple as that. It's not a part of me. And now I don't care to fall into the capitalist scheme." 

John pauses, before asking, "Are you Jewish?" 

"Dad was a dick. Then we were poor and mum died. Also not Jewish, no." 

"Right." John winces. He should have used his head for once and guessed it had something to do with Roger's shit childhood. He had gotten bits and pieces from Roger over the years that painted a grim picture of his youth. Although Roger doesn't like to talk about it much, he's told John more than he's ever told anyone else. 

John rubs his thumb over the soft ridges between Roger's knuckles, where the skin is thin and sensitive. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright. Now you know." Roger shuts his eyes and gently bumps his forehead into John's. John closes his eyes too and enjoys the closeness of Roger's breath tickling his nose and their foreheads being pressed together for a brief moment. 

He allows his free hand to rest on the bulge of Roger's tummy. He feels their baby making a ruckus on the inside, pushing and bumping against the outer walls with too much enthusiasm. 

"At least someone is excited for the holiday season." John grins against Roger's lips. 

Before his boyfriend gets the chance to reply, the door swings open and the nurse calls their names and they are forced to break apart and follow. Although John has to help Roger out of the chair. And he hasn't forgotten about the Christmas conversation yet. 

🎄🎄🎄

"No."

"Since when do you have eyes in the back of your head?" John grumbles and quickly fishes the item out of the grocery cart before he gets glared at. 

Roger has been leading the way down the aisles, directing where John should follow and push their items. 

It's been a good day overall, people are giving them amused and tender looks, John can't tear his eyes away from Roger's ever-evolving body, and Roger is happy to be in charge with what to fill their pantry this week. 

Roger drops another bag of crisps onto their pile, before promptly turning around to narrow his eyes at the advent calendar John is still holding. 

"This is completely innocent." John shows the purple Cadbury Dairy Milk box to him, "Look!"

It should not be this hard to persuade Roger into buying an advent calendar. John should be ashamed of how out of shape he is. He and Roger had been going so steady for such a long, he's forgotten how to get things his way when they aren't already. 

Roger leans his weight on the other end of the cart, forcing John to hold onto the handles tight in fear of the wheels rolling away under the added pressure. 

He peers thoughtfully at the calendar, in particular at the fat Santa Claus holding a present in his hands, before scrunching up his nose. "No. Can't you see how ridiculous that is? It's all commercial mind manipulation crap." 

"There's chocolate in it?" John says, playing his final card. 

"... There is?" 

_Gotcha_. John restrains himself from grinning to hard. Roger would never give him if he's going to be smug about it. Instead, John feels a little sad that Roger never had an advent calendar before. "Yes! You get one every day until it's Christmas." He points at the small numbered compartments in the box. "See, the chocolate is in there." 

He's got Rogers attention for a split second. Some moments he solely thinks with his stomach these days, not his brain. But then his eyes trail over to the other chocolates on the shelves right next to them.

"I can also just buy a box of chocolate and eat them all in one sitting."

"What's the fun in that?!" John exclaims. The look on Roger's face already tells him he's damn near to losing this battle. "We can buy both?" He proposes instead. 

_More chocolate_. Roger's stomach seems to agree to that, if the way Roger is smoothing his hand down his belly is any indication. Then those lovely blue eyes dart up to John's. John tries for a bright smile, shaking the box gleefully. 

Roger's eyes roll back into his head, but a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. It's a start. A good start of getting Roger out of his holiday flunk. 

One reluctant nod later, accompanied by a suspicious frown, John triumphantly adds the advent calendar to their shopping cart and carefully leans across to capture Roger's lips in a toe-curling, heart-warming, cheek-burning kiss to last them for the remainder of their trip. 

🎄🎄🎄

John doesn't give up. It is the holidays and they are both on maternity leave. (Or Roger is, John is just lucky that there is no album in the making now). He has all the time in the world to get Roger into Christmas. He plays the long game. 

"Would you look at that!" John holds up the paper to Roger, who is pretending to nap on the other end of the couch, although from the wriggling of his socked toes propped up in John's lap, he knows he is not asleep. 

Roger has an arm thrown over his eyes which he doesn't bother moving away.

"If it's another 'better' stroller, I'm going to kill you, I will drive you over with the three perfectly fine strollers we got in the garage before I look at another fucking stroller."

"Not a stroller, Rog." John nudges him with the newspaper. "They're holding a Christmas market."

"Hm."

"In the middle of Covent Garden." John's smile widens when Roger finally gives in and uncovers his face to look at the article. "It only opened recently."

Without his glasses, Roger has to squint and scrunch his nose to read the tiny letters. Although that might just be distaste. "Jubilee Market is the best they could come up with?" He asks curtly before sinking back into the pillows behind him to indicate he has done enough reading now. John knows a rhetorical question when he hears one and puts the newspaper down on the floor, out of the way.

Instead, he wraps his hands around one of Roger's feet and without waiting for the hum of approval John usually gets for rubbing Roger's tired feet, starts kneading his thumbs into the arch. It is the best persuasion technique. Within seconds Roger is melting, with his eyes fluttering shut and body relaxing under John's strong calculated grip. 

That's of course when John strikes. 

"I want to go. To the Christmas market." He murmurs quietly, as if Roger would be less inclined to say no if the peace is undisturbed. 

"John..."

"We can also go to the Hyde Park Winter Wonderland. Your choice." John pipes out before Roger's whine becomes something more serious. 

Shit. Roger opens his eyes and sits upright with a much more irritated look than the request warranted for. Granted, Roger had been clear about his unchristmas-ness. 

" _John_." He says in a tone that is very unlike him.

John does not like how often he gets himself backed into a corner these days only to be saved by the promise of food. 

"They've got caramelised nuts." 

Roger huffs, a little amused by the situation himself. Maybe his stomach is bothering him, John thinks wryly while watching Roger press his palms to his ribs, trying to coax the baby into a different position. The discomfort doesn't go away, but he looks up at John again, asking, "Are you sure?"

"And we need decorations."

Roger groans. "For fucks sake."

🎄🎄🎄

Roger might hate Christmas, (for now. John is still working on it) but he loves presents; buying them, giving them, receiving them. Inside the mall, Roger's eyes lit up and if his body could move faster, John was sure he'd have trouble keeping up. Although with the added weight of his belly and the pain in his lower back, Roger is struggling to keep up with himself.

They have gone in and out of at least seventeen stores before Roger exclaims that he needs 'some fucking fish, chips and chocolate right now'. 

Who is John to deny him that? 

He knows a good place that sells more grease than fish in their dishes, exactly as Roger likes it. It is located on the lowest level of the plaza, so John takes all the shopping bags from Roger to carry them down towards the escalator himself. Roger gives him a look and is about to protest by saying something silly, like that being pregnant is not a sports injury and that he can help, but they are rudely interrupted by a low, melodic voice that stops them dead in tracks just before they step on the escalator. 

"Ho-Ho-Ho, would you two like a picture with Santa?"

Roger gives the Santa on a decorated chair some steps away from the escalators a bored look and shoots back, "Are we five?" At the same time as John breaks out into a grin. "Yes please!"

Roger turns his glare on him. "Deacky."

"Oh Rog, just one picture for the Christmas cards." John begs, and he is already dragging Roger over to Santa Claus and the photographer. With Roger's lack of balance and John's advantage in hight and speed, there is very little for Roger to do than come along. 

"The Christmas cards?" Roger asks, but John refuses to answer before they get into Santas range.

The old man smiles behind the fake beard and opens his arms when the couple approaches his station. His eyes twinkle in delight at Roger's weak resistance. At least he has a playful streak.

"Don't let Santa wait too long, or he will list you as a naughty boy." He says.

"We can't let that poor old man wait, come on it will only take a second." John leads Roger all the way to Santa's chair and steps away from the two. "Come on and sit on Santas lap." 

John grins wickedly and Roger glares while Santa graciously helps him settle on his knee by steadying Roger with an arm around his back. He gives Roger's bulging belly an obvious once-over, the curve is even more pronounced in the sweater that stretches tightly over his stomach. He can't zip his jacket up anymore, at least they bought a new one today before the worst of the cold has set in. 

Santa trails his gaze up to Roger's face again. "Someone certainly has been naughty this year. How long until the little one is coming?"

"Just over two months now." A tiny smile magically tugs at the corners of Roger's lips, the way he always does when thinking about their baby. He allows the smile to linger and waits for the photographer to snap the picture, but Santa holds up his free hand to stop the woman. 

"Ho ho ho," He says. "When the little one sees the picture one day they will think that Santa is their daddy." He looks straight at John. "You have to join us."

Rogers turns his head to John and his grin instantly widens. "Join us Deacky."

The delight that courses through John when he sees Roger lean into the spirit of Christmas is indescribable. He can only pretend to be exasperated when he promptly lowers himself onto Santas other knee. 

Roger guides Santa's hand onto his stomach and turns his chin up with a sunny beam. 

The photographer snaps a picture moments after and prints it out for them to take home for only a couple of pence. Without Roger's knowing, John makes a hundred copies and sends it to everyone with the caption: _John, Roger, Santa and the little present on the way._

🎄🎄🎄

"John?"

He half expects to be asked to make another trip to the grocery store because Roger craves pineapples and sweet peas or whatever crap his pregnancy brain comes up with. He rushes from the bedroom downstairs to the living room.

"Yes my Beloved?" John doesn't expect to find Roger pressed against the window, face and belly, looking at the thick layer of snow that's wrapped around their backyard. 

He turns his head and needlessly says, "It's snowed."

"Oh—" John's eyes are glued to the winter wonderland outside, they don't have any direct neighbours so none of the snow has been disturbed yet by footsteps or car tracks. John approaches Roger and wraps an arm around his enlarged waist. "That's wonderful."

His eyes drift back to his mate and he grins, tugging Roger towards the hallway. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Roger asks but a small smile is already threatening to break out on his face and he obliges in following John to the door. "Deacky?"

"Snow fight!"

John states simply and let's go of him (when he is certain Roger is well balanced on his own feet) to get himself ready for the freezing cold with his boots and thick jacket he got.

He is nearly finished dressing while Roger is still busy lowering himself to sit down on the stairs steps, one hand beneath the curve of his belly, the other supporting his weight to slowly sink down.

"But that's not fair," Roger huffs once he's finally managed. John can't help but think he is adorable. "I'm pregnant." 

"God what an awful excuse!" John snickers and is quite happy to watch Roger while he buttons up his coat. The air between this is happy and light, something that makes John want to lean down and pin Roger to the stairs rather than get him up and about, but that is not what will get them one ticket to Christmas town. 

Roger is still shoving his feet into his snowboots when John holds his coat out to him, held open so Roger can stick his arms through immediately as soon as he's struggled up to his feet with some reluctantly accepted assistance. He zips up and tips his chin up for a kiss. "Arsehole." He whispers against John's lips. 

John grins and stuffs his keys into his pockets, before racing out the door.

Roger waddles after him, John slows down when he hears Roger panting only three steps out of the house and turns around to see his cheeks have gone rosy pink from exertion. His competitive spirit could not care less that he's pregnant as he tries to catch up. 

John pretends not to wait around to give Roger enough time to form a snowball between his hands cold, before he bends down to start gathering snow for his own. 

The first ball hits him straight in the face. 

The snow is fresh and fine, mostly powder. Nothing painful, but the cold shock sends John backwards onto his ass with a squawk. Snow instantly soaks through his denim trousers and then he is being laughed at. 

"Get off your ass lazy pants." Roger grins and struggles to lean over far enough to make another snowball.

John uses the opportunity to chuck a snowball of his own at Roger. He's made it so small and loosely put together that it mostly evaporates in the air before it hits Roger on the forehead. But the sudden and well-aimed impact still makes him sputter and nearly lose balance. 

John is ready to shoot onto his feet and keep him from toppling over and hurting himself, but Roger spreads his arms wide and manages to steady himself.

Once the surprise has passed on, there is room for amusement. 

"Targeting your pregnant boyfriend while he's defenceless, that's low!" Roger shrieks, but he's laughing, red in the face with chuckles. 

He allows his body to sink into the pile of snow allowing his hands and knees to take the slow fall. 

From this position, it is much easier for him to throw the next ball. 

John sees what he is doing, making a much larger and denser snowball to toss in John's direction. John knows better than to make one that looks as threatening as Roger's, but he also knows better than to (noticeably) treat Roger like a softie and begins on his own pile of balls to fire back when their war starts. 

"Alright, won't take it easy on you then!" John promises, watching Roger tuck his arm back, before catapulting the ball in John's general direction. 

He dodges the snowball with gleeful ease and throws his own with a bow, so that it lands right on top of Roger's head. 

"Oh! It's on now!" Roger yells, still smiling so bright that he could melt all the snow in the world. 

🎄🎄🎄

Roger likes the Christmas market.

No, of course he won't ever admit to it. Not without a gun to his head.

John would never force him to admit it either. He is well satisfied walking around Covent Garden with Roger around his arm, both of them bundled up in various scarfs, gloves, coats, hats and socks. They are warm and cosy pressed close against one another, enjoying the lights and Santas decorated around the market. There are too many people here, but with Roger so obviously pregnant they are given space to walk and roam freely without being rudely bumped into or checked to the side.

As promised, Roger gets to enjoy every stall that offers food and rates them from 'straight to garbage bin' to 'the baby will kick its way out to have a lick for itself'. 

John would have thrown up if he had only taken one bite of everything Roger had fully consumed, but he keeps those thoughts safely to himself as he leads Roger around the square, one hand around the small of his back and the other linked with his arm to take some of his weight. 

"So you did this every year for Christmas?" Roger asks after they have purchased the nativity set in a small ceramic form and the stall owner wishes them a happy new year. 

John does most of the carrying, Roger has food in one hand and John in the other, but again, he doesn't mind one bit.

"Yes." He says. "Mum would take drive us to the nearest market and allowed Julie and I to pick one new decoration for the house. One each. Of course, we would never be able to settle on the same thing. Mum would have to safe up a little but it was a tradition."

John doesn't miss how Roger's eyes grow distant and then cast to the floor, where he can't see his own feet anymore. 

He gives Roger's arm an encouraging squeeze and waits for him to find it within him to say something. Which might not happen at all, knowing Roger for all these years. 

So John is surprised when Roger pulls him to the side and out of the streaming crowd of people to stand in a quiet corner wedged between two stalls. He keeps a hold of John's arm, although he struggles to look John in the eye, prefers to dart his gaze over at every other inch of the world around them.

John waits patiently, although it suddenly feels a lot colder when they are standing still. 

Roger takes a deep breath, his eyes have landed on the large glass ceiling and they remain there for a long moment.

"We went to church, for Christmas. Not because we were particularly religious or anything, but my dad didn't want us to look bad in front of the whole neighbourhood. I sang in the choir, so people would ask questions if we were the only ones who didn't come. You remember church services on Christmas as a kid, right?"

John nods.

"They were boring and dragged on forever, but for us, it was the only part of Christmas we got to celebrate. Back at home dad held the reigns real tight and we didn't do any of that stuff."

Roger had been poor growing up.

They all had been or become poor to some degree, John thinks bitterly. They were all born out of the post-war madness into a broken, insecure world. Rogers father had done all kinds of unspeakable things, not celebrating Christmas is only the tip of a very large iceberg. The financial instability and Michaels mental instability formed a lethal duo that had scarred Roger forever.

"There was no Christmas in our house, mum wasn't allowed to bring it up and we weren't allowed to ask where our tree was or if we would get any presents like all our classmates did. We knew better than to ask, Dad would have lashed out at the notion of spending more money on us that wasn't there to begin with. Mum could have improvised something, she was very intelligent like that. She could have made us something or given us Christmas in another creative way. But it wasn't worth the risk, y'know. Even bringing it up. Or being caught trying to sneak us a present. She'd be dead."

Winifred had died after months of battling a terrible cancer when Roger and Clare were just teenagers. She had taken them from Michaels clutches just a year or so prior to her diagnosis, they had been poorer than poor back then. John remembers his own mother struggling to make ends meet after his fathers' sudden death.

The only difference was that Winifred herself had very little time left with her children to enjoy their newfound freedom, however lacking in financial means. 

Roger and Clare would have been returned straight to their father if it weren't for their grandmother stepping in. 

It hadn't been particularly easy living with her. Sarah had suffered from dementia and the teenagers looked after her rather than the other way around, to keep her out of a retirement home and them inside the safety of her tiny house near their schools.

A rough childhood, John can only imagine.

He reaches out to Roger and wraps his arms around his shoulders to pull him into a tight hug.

Roger instantly deflates against him, happy to let go.

"I never got to do it with her." Roger's cold lips brush the soft patch beneath John's chin. "I never got to have my mum."

John shuts his mouth tightly, feeling a mix of emotions he cannot unpack here or in front of Roger. His eyes sting with tears he doesn't want to show. He purses his lips and brushes them over Roger's brow. "Let's go home, okay?"

🎄🎄🎄

John's Christmas masterplan is disturbed when a letter arrives in the mail. 

From Roger's father.

John is glad he was there when Roger picks it off the doormat with a pinched face. He doesn't bother opening it, not after recognizing the handwriting and then scanning the back for the returns address to confirm his dark suspicion.

John had just crept up behind him when Roger inhales sharply and turns around to face him.

"It's him." Roger shoves it into John's hand and stomps past him towards the stairs. Presumably going straight into the nurse to mope there. 

It is freshly painted and still airing out. Not that Roger cares, as the door slams closed with a loud bang. 

John sighs lets him simmer for a couple of minutes before he goes after him, with some hot chocolate and the letter ripped up in the trash. 

Michael tries it every couple of years or so, try to get back in contact with his children. Something neither Roger or Clare are particularly interested in. Not after what they had gone through for all those years as children. John is unsure what he would do in their place, having lost his father at a young age. He probably would have wanted to hear out what Michael had to say, but it is not his place to bring that up. He doesn't know what Roger went through nor how he experienced it. It is difficult to stand in somebody else's shoes when you know very little, but it is easy to take care of somebody you care so deeply about.

He enters the nursery a good ten minutes later and finds Roger exactly where he expected to find him, rocking back and forth on the rocking chair with his hands folded over his belly.

John slips into the room without a word and sits down on the floor opposite of him, his toes curl in the fluffy carpet they had picked up when imagining their child rolling around in the soft fabric. It is perfect and John can't help a small smile from tugging at the corner of his mouth even when he hands Roger his cup of hot chocolate. 

Roger might have murmured a thank you before taking it, but it is too quiet for John to pick up. 

He sits back to watch Roger sip the brown liquid from the brim of his favourite mug. With every second the furrow between his brow smoothens out. 

After a long moment has passed he gives John a puzzled look and says, "This is good."

"It's your mums recipe."

Roger's eyes widen. He opens his mouth and then shuts it again to taste the inside of his mouth. He blinks. Taken by surprise. 

"It is."

"Clare gave it to me, said she figured out the recipe a while ago." John smiles sadly at the admission, he hadn't planned to give it to Roger for the first time under these circumstances, but it had seemed like the right thing to do. John leans onto his knees to put his hands on Roger's growing belly.

"I'm sorry he took your childhood from you, Rog. And those precious years of your mothers' life."

He exhales and Roger leans his forehead against John's with some difficulty and kisses his nose. 

The simple touch sends butterflies from the tip of his nose to the rest of his body all the way down to his toes. When he reopens his eyes, Roger is smiling too, although he's got tears in his eyes and a chocolate moustache. 

"You'll be a good dad, Deacky."

John feels the baby kick in his palm and he rubs the skin kindly, hoping it isn't bothering Roger too much. "Almost as good as I imagine you will be, I hope."

🎄🎄🎄

The last few days have been a rough patch in his masterplan, John has to admit. But today he comes armed with the big guns, the best of all weapons of enthusiasm and overexcitement. 

"Hi Fred."

"Deacky!" Freddie opens his arms wide for a hug. 

John opens the door to let him and Brian into the house before the cold comes in too, but not before being engulfed in a tight bone-crushing embrace. At least Brian is content with a friendly pat on the shoulder. Then he gets brushed past, of course, to be outshone by the star of the universe. 

"How are you two doing— How is my favourite pregnant person in the world?" 

Freddie rounds the corner into the living room and finds his price sitting in the living room with his feed up and arms folded. John and Brian follow after him, both looking at him with fond smiles.

"I'm hungry," Roger answers back. 

John and Brian enter in time to see Freddie put his hands on top of Roger's belly and leaning down to kiss his chubby cheek and then the curve beneath his shirt. 

Roger's eyes soften at the tender touches and he sighs. "Otherwise, I'm good."

John's plan is already working. 

There is nothing in the world that could lift Roger's mood more than Freddie, however much it envy's him to admit that. 

Freddie flops down next to him to embrace him with the same care he had embraced John. The two of them touch each other up for a moment longer, they talk about him of course, teasing as they always do when they are together. "Has that awful boyfriend of yours been letting you starve?"

"Deacky can't help it. It's like I'm sharing my body with a gremlin." 

"Oh poor dear," Freddie grasps at Roger's hands and sits down on the floor by his feet, where John had already laid out all the Christmas decorations they bought at the market the other day. "What if I told you Brian bought some of his homemade cookies for you?"

"Then I'd tell you and John to both fuck off so I can marry him instead." 

They chuckle and continue to whisper amongst themselves like teenagers, although normal teenagers don't affectionately pet their pregnant bellies when they gossip. 

Brian in the meantime has taken off his coat and shoes and walks past John into the living room. He turns around to examine at the bare tree in the empty corner next to the television. It is safely stored in a bucket of water, but still waiting to be decorated today.

"That is a very lovely tree you got there. Did you pick that out, Rog?" Brian asks as he backs away from the tree to join Freddie in affectionately stroking Roger's belly to feel the baby kick. 

If he were anyone else Roger could have killed him for touching him without his explicit permission, but Brian has a certain longing to his eyes sad whenever he touches Roger's belly. A longing for a child of his own, that shuts Roger rightfully up.

"Absolutely not." Roger snorts and makes grabby hands for the little plastic bag of cookies Brian is holding. "John got it delivered to our place. And he picked it, of course. My choices were not up to bar, apparently."

John rolls his eyes. Although he is struggling not to smile. "As if you didn't pick all the hideous trees on purpose."

The tiny smirk on Roger's face says enough. "I don't know what you're talking about."

After that, there is more talk about the baby and Roger answering questions with his mouth full of cookies and his sweater (John's sweater that is) covered in cookie crumbs. John allows the chatter to wash over him like a warm ocean wave. It is good to have other people around, they likely won't be seeing their friends again until Christmas. It was nice of them to offer to help decorate the tree and house when Roger isn't up much for the physical task. 

The best way to get him involved without allowing him to tire easily is by letting him choose each set of decoration and where the others must put it, while he's got his feet up and a pillow behind his neck. 

"I want the golden brown sticks at the top, like a collar of an expensive coat. Let it flare out— that's it. You get me." 

Roger grins cheekily when Brian, without needing a chair, stuffs the decoration between the branches, lining the sparkling sticks around the tip like a fashionable frill. "You like that?" He asks Roger.

John snorts when Roger gives the tree a thoughtful look, humming and scratching the exposed skin at the underside of his curved belly.

"I like it, yes." He turns his gaze on John, who is down to the last two red bulbs Roger had picked for the tree. "What do you think Deacks?"

"It looks great, as long as you are happy."

Roger's smile magnifies and John has to physically keep himself from kissing that smug grin off his face. Although it wouldn't be the first time they have been obscene in front of their friends, they have been rather helpful today and kept Roger happy by following his every instruction to the T.

"Keep your pants on, for Christ's sake!" Freddie jokes just as he steps back into the house after putting the wreath up on the front door. "Can hardly get him pregnant twice over."

"What's the harm in trying?" John snickers when Freddie pretends to gag before he steals one of the two balls left to put in the tree.

He turns to Roger and asks where he wants it.

Roger huffs. His cheeks puff out and his shoulders deflate as he thinks.

But then, he puts his hand on the couches' armrest and the other on the arch of his back. With a strained sound, Roger plants both feet on the ground and forces himself to stand up. 

All three of them reach for him before he's straightened up and when they reach Roger he waves them off and out of the way.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Needed to stretch my legs anyway— Stop that I said I'm fine." Roger swats his hand away when John offers it to support his weight, but he does allow the arm that curls around his aching back when John puts some comfortable pressure behind the sore muscles there. 

Roger goes straight for the tree, now that John is not occupied worrying, he sees a little spark in his glistening eyes at how wonderful the tree, as well as the rest of the living room, has become.

They have gone for a classic pallet of gold and pine green and red. 

Freddie has done most of the designing around furniture, placing tiny Santas, reindeers, candles, mistletoes, fairy lights, twinkling stars and snowflakes dangling off the ceiling and garlands decorated with tiny lights and balls above doors and the kitchen counters and all other available surfaces. 

John hadn't even realized hours had passed since they had started. He had been so excited that Roger was dictating how everything needed to be and how serious he took it, despite the power trip it gave him. 

"Whoa."

Roger squeezes his arm to bring his attention back to his softened face. Soft with pregnancy and happiness. "I am supposed to say that."

John grins. "Do you like it?"

"Of course I like it." Roger scoffs. "I designed it." John cuts him off by bending down for a chaste kiss on the lips that ends before Freddie or Brian can make a comment. 

"I love you."

He is deadly sincere and it takes Roger by surprise, who blinks a couple of times, before he can answer. John feels his heart pounding in his chest. He loves Roger. He loves him harder every single day they are together. Every single day they create a more beautiful home together. "Well, I love you too Deacky. No reason to make a pregnant person so emotional, you know."

John fondly shakes his head, before he decides to hand Roger firmly over to Freddie so he can get started on lunch. Freddie is watching them with his hands clasped over his heart and his bottom lip pushed out. 

"You guys make me sick, that's how sweet you are." He wraps an arm around Roger as soon as he comes into arms range. Roger allows himself to be embraced and leans back into the touch. John hadn't noticed Brian leaving, but he is nowhere to be seen, only the clattering of pots and pans in the kitchen where he has beaten John to starting on food, indicates his presence. "I can't believe John softened you up like that."

"What can I say," Roger sighs as they walk back over to the couch to rest again. "I'm in love." 

"The things men can do to us." Freddie shakes his head and parrots Roger's wistful sigh from before. John leaves them be so he can help Brian in the kitchen. 

🎄🎄🎄

"John."

John tears his eyes away from the dishes he's just put in the sink to soak. He turns around and finds Roger pressed right against him, trapping him to the counter. "Hm?"

"I've seen movies before, so I know what those mean." Roger points upwards, at the mistletoe between them. His lips curl into a gleeful smile. "You owe me a kiss."

Since Freddie had left the box of mistletoe plants behind after they had finished decorating the house, Roger has made it his mission to use every single one of them around the entire living area. Every doorpost, lamp, wall, bookshelf, there is a mistletoe. They have been stealing kisses from each other all day and every time he catches John as much as pausing underneath one, he strikes, with that same excited smile.

Happiness roots around John's heart, seeing Roger glow with mirth every single time. 

With a smirk of his own tugging at the corners of his mouth, John snakes his arms around Roger until he has both hands on his lower back. These days Roger's always arching his back under the weight of his belly pulling him forward. John rubs his fingers into the tender skin just above his ass, to knead the underlying tension away. 

"You know," John whispers after a blissful moment. "You don't need to hang mistletoes everywhere to get a kiss from your boyfriend and the father of the baby you are carrying."

Roger's eyes flutter shut under the ministrations and he doesn't bother opening them again. "You know, I don't need an advent calendar to eat chocolates or buy a Christmas tree to decorate my living room, but you were the one who kept going on and on about traditions and _bla bla bla_." 

"Alright, I'll shut up now." John whispers and leans in to brush his lips over Roger's. "Because of Christmas."

"Right, Christmas." Roger chuckle is swallowed John's mouth.

Roger wraps his arms around John's shoulders to put his weight on him as he stands on his toes. John appreciates the effort with a squeeze to Roger's bum.

The kiss starts of soft and innocent, as a mid-morning kiss should. 

John nibbles gently on Roger's bottom lip and angles his head sideways to gain access to his mouth. Roger opens up with an appreciative hum, allowing John to chase his rich flavour inside. 

Ever since he has gotten pregnant every part of him has gotten more sensitive to touch. 

He has told John on numerous occasions how everything has a stronger sensation now. So it doesn't surprise John when Roger makes a needy noise at the first brush of their tongues together. 

He leans heavily onto John and eagerly swirls his tongue around John's, begging for more, making an effort in trying to suckle on John's, but John struggles for dominance, pushing in deeper and tongue fucking Roger's mouth hard and effective enough to daze his boyfriend into allowing John to suckle gently on his tongue and giving him the touches he needs to press his hardness to John's thigh.

Roger makes a muffled sound that John chalks up to a 'please'. 

He hums and brings one of his hands up to Roger's face to hold his chin in place while John devours him filthily. 

Were this any other day, seven months ago, John would have wiped everything off the counter and pushed Roger down and fucked him right then and there. 

But spontaneous sex is not what it used to be. Roger isn't as flexible and things are uncomfortable that had felt nice before. There are not many positions Roger can take on, especially not outside the bedroom away from the comfort of the mattress and the pillow pile. 

If they are going to do it standing, John knows they have to be quick before he tires. And a nap is a must afterwards, a small price to pay for the ultimate bliss that awaits. 

"Fuck me, Deacks." Roger gasps for breath as soon as they break apart for half a second. He starts pulling on John's shirt, he's rosy-cheeked and his lips are swollen red from being kissed. "Please. It's a tradition."

"That's not how the tradition works." John points out, even though he allows Roger to pull his shirt over his head. 

Roger presses him against the counter, hard, and starts undoing the clasp of his own belt without even once breaking eye contact with John. It turns John on more than it should. 

"Let's make some new traditions then."

Alright, John thinks, steamy kitchen sex is not a bad tradition. 

🎄🎄🎄

"Are you ready to go?"

Roger appears in the doorway as fast as he could, which is impressively speedy considering his width and size. He's all dressed up and hair done for the first time in weeks. "I was born ready."

"Good." John kisses Roger's cheeks, before offering him an arm to support Roger over the doorstep out onto the snowy front lawn.

He had shoveled the path to the streets clean to keep Roger out of slipping danger, but only half an hour later a fresh layer of snow has undone all of his work. "I had cleaned this all up so you wouldn't fall." 

Roger isn't usually one to give into potential weaknesses, but his unbalanced body has taken that privilege away from him.

"I'll just hold on tight."

So for now, Roger clamps onto John's arm and together they walk into the cold night. 

Ever since they had become an item, John had paraded Roger around proudly in public wherever they went. May this be a gig or to the pub around the corner as where they are going now, he loved to put his hand on Roger's hip while they meet other people or stand close to subtly let the world know how good of a catch he's made.

It is not possessive in a creepy way, or a jealous way. But it always felt immensely fulfilling when people commented on how wonderful of an item they are. How sweet they are. Or when they pull John aside and tell him privately how lucky he is. 

Because he is proud that Roger is his.

What he means is that now that Roger is pregnant, very obviously pregnant for everyone with functional eyes to see, with his jacket unzipped (because he runs hot very fast) and one hand supporting his enlarged belly. People look at them differently now when they pass through the entrance of the pub. 

Nobody can help but soften up when they see someone so gleefully radiant as Roger, pregnant and exclaiming he is happy to be inside to take the weight off his feet. 

John leads them to the nearest empty table and pulls a chair out for him. 

Roger thanks his with a brief kiss, before painstakingly slow in lowering himself down with support from John and the table. 

Everything is heavy and slow these days and John never ceases to feel less guilty for the discomfort twisting Roger's pretty face. 

When he is safely seated, John takes off his coat and sits down in the chair at the opposite end of the tiny table. 

It is packed tonight. 

"Mum used to take us to pubs all the time around Christmas." John says after putting his coat over the back of his chair and watching Roger shrug his arms out of his jacket too. People are still watching them, but Roger seems unbothered by the attention. He didn't put that red sweater that hugs his curves just so for nothing. "She'd order us a hot chocolate while she'd grant herself a tea with a bit of brandy."

"The least she deserves." Roger grins and leans back as far as the creaking wooden chair allows. He folds both hands over his belly as he continues to watch John. 

John knows Roger is mostly happy to be in a pub again for the first time in months. There hadn't really been a reason before today to go while he is heavily pregnant. But he hopes that at least some part of Roger will enjoy the traditional carol singing. 

"The least I deserve too, if I weren't carrying your spawn that is."

John bites back a grin and reaches for one of Roger's hands instead, to kiss his knuckles. "I thank you very dearly for carrying my spawn. Now, may I offer you something to drink that will not have my child born with fetal alcohol syndrome?"

"Some chips, please, an apple juice with ice and their buffalo chicken and cheese-loaded sub, no hot sauce okay? And ask for the bottle of honey they surely have lying around for those pancakes."

"But no pancakes?"

"No pancakes. Just the honey. Don't let them put it on the sub, just let them give it to me. They'll do it all wrong." Roger says.

John bites the inside of his cheek. "I'm sure they wouldn't put the honey over the sub, Rog." He gets up and checks if his wallet is in his jeans. "Back in a sec."

"Large apple juice, lots of ice, yes?"

"Yes, yes. I love you." John bows down to give Roger a chaste kiss on the forehead before disappearing in the crowd to get to the bar.

They are very amused when he makes his order and needlessly explains with only a tad of embarrassment that it is for his pregnant boyfriend, not for him. The two owners have a good laugh at the bar, and even give John his beer for free, and wish him good luck on parenthood, before handing him his tray with his order. Which he promises to give back later. 

Roger is making grabby hands at him (or the tray, but John imagines its for him) when he comes into sight of their table.

The pub is even more crowded than before and John is glad they came when they did, because Roger could never have set through the performance while standing. 

"You brought the food— Oh and the honey." Roger is all smiles today and John struggles to contain his own delight at seeing the one he loves so fiercely, be so fiercely happy. He remembers the Roger who was hesitant to try the advent calendar in the supermarket, or the Roger who had gagged at the idea of the Christmas market, is completely delighted when he sees that they have stuck a miniature paper Santa on a toothpick into his sub. 

And okay, maybe John did not tell Roger that there would be carol singers at the pub tonight, but that doesn't mean Roger has to glare at him from across the table when the singers step on the small podium and everyone inside applauds at their sheepish entrance. 

"You tricked me into Christmas stuff." Roger says, cheeks puffed out with fries. 

John opens his mouth to reply, but he is silenced by the first song starts. And because the singers are not using microphones, it is only respectful to stay silent as they sing. 

Roger continues to passively eat his fries and watch the performance, subtly tapping his foot along the music. 

Around the third song, he starts singing along to the classical tunes that even he knows and gets adoring looks from other patrons while he does, eating fries with one hand and stroking his belly with the other. 

🎄🎄🎄

"Turn the telly off. If I see one more Christmas advertisement my brain will rot out of my ears."

John had only just entered the living room with all the supplies they will need to wrap their presents up, gift wrapping, tape, scissors and stickers to write names on. But he takes one look at Roger and knows he is not joking, even though John is sure brain rot is not a real thing. Is it?

He bends down and turns the television off without protest. A smile instantly appears on ROgers face and slowly he slinks down to the floor to sit in front of the coffee table where John puts the supplies down.

"So, gift wrapping today?"

"Two more days until Christmas, there is no better time I'd say." John sinks down to his knees too and takes place next to Roger.

He puts one hand on his belly, covered by a tight probably uncomfortable shirt, to feel the baby move beneath his hand. Roger is looking a bit pale today and there is a tense discomfort to his shoulders. Some days the baby is just being a bit too much of a pain, literally. And there is not much John can do about that. 

"Baby bothering you?" He asks in a low, comforting tone.

Roger huffs the air out of his lungs slowly, breathing through the pain with as much dignity as someone who is being assaulted from the inside all day, can. 

"Just being a bowling ball with legs they like to swing about, into my organs, my ribs, stuff like that."

"I'm sorry." John says, but Roger waves his hand in the air. Even when John strokes comforting circles around his belly with a flat palm, Roger's pain doesn't ease. "I wish I could take it away. You don't have to do anything today, not even the Christmas stuff."

A small smile, and Roger turns his face to kiss him on the cheek. 

"I could use the distraction, really." Roger reassures. 

A sparkle of hope flutters inside John's chest. Christmas is becoming a form of comfort for Roger, rather than an obligation. 

So they wrap gifts that day and Roger even allows John to turn the television on again so they can watch more of the brain-rotting-Christmas-adverts and rate them from too sexual, too capitalist, too heterosexual and too overdone. 

They end up filling everyone's stocking up and the presents that don't fit inside are left under their extremely beautiful Christmas tree.

John sees Roger's eyes drifting over to the beautiful wonder in the corner of the living room every few minutes. Drawn by the colours and the beautiful lights, admiring his own design in putting it together. 

They have a stocking for each other, Brian, Freddie and one for the baby.

Roger is still hurting by the end of it, the baby is still wide awake and on a mission to drive his father crazy, but at least the gift wrapping has left him tired enough to lay on his side on the couch with his head on John's lap and nod off while John plays with his hair. 

🎄🎄🎄

"Maybe we should focus first on the things on the shopping list?"

" _Maybe we should focus on the things on the list._ " Roger parrots in a mocking tone and shamelessly puts the applesauce in the shopping cart. "I'm hungry."

John scans down their shopping list to see what is the next item he needs for the classic dinner. He had assembled the list according to the aisles in the supermarket. Everything should be written in the right walk route. Even if Roger is trying very hard to distract him and on a mission to make him mess up at least once on his route. 

"You shouldn't shop on an empty stomach." He absently mumbles, while selecting the perfect turkey from the meat section. Not from the frozen aisles, of course. Only the best for his family.

"My stomach is never empty." Roger says after a long pause, and then adds, "But I'm always hungry."

John finally picks out one of the turkeys and turns to put it in the cart, but only after snatching a closed-mouthed kiss from Roger. "What a paradox."

"It's terrible."

"Would buying everything from every food group help you at all?" John asks without moving away from Roger.

He puts a hand on the swell of Roger's belly. Roger hadn't bothered with a coat at all. Apparently walking around the store made him sweat like a hooker in church, as he so lovingly puts it. He looks lovely with the sweater hugging his belly tight and his cheeks pink with flushed happiness. John never believed in the whole 'pregnancy glow'. Not until Roger got it.

"Of course it would help, a little bit." Roger breaks out into a grin and tips his chin up for another kiss.

The public displays of affection are not really like them, but people are already overly interested in them because of the baby. A few shared kisses under the fluorescent light of the meat section is hardly the scandal. 

"God, you're the worst food shopping partner," John whispers against Roger's lips. "I'm just trying to get everything for lunch tomorrow. I'd usually be done in thirty minutes."

"Nex time, don't knock me up in the summer and maybe we won't have a winter pregnancy, yeah?"

Roger clasps his shoulder, smiling brightly, before pulling back and strutting down from the meat section towards the dairy and butter, where his hungry eyes catch sight of a hundred different yoghurt brands. 

He immediately starts grabbing for rhubarb flavoured tubs (Why, why why?) and turns to John with the pile stacked in his arms, expectantly. "You coming or what?"

It is not on the list, but John bites the inside of his cheek to shut up.

Tomorrow is the big day and he needs Roger in a good mood for his long build-up to Christmas to have any payoff. So he follows after Roger and puts the rhubarb yoghurt in the cart and even pretends not to care when Roger grabs the cranberry squash, to go with their fresh cranberry sauce. 

"What, you're not going to tell me off?" Roger asks, cheekily and provoking with a glimmer in his eyes.

John will not give him the satisfaction. 

"Me, telling my pregnant boyfriend off for preferring artificial flavours over real cranberry juice, right before Christmas? I'd have to be heartless."

Roger cackles. 

🎄🎄🎄

The night before Christmas eve, John does something he hasn't done in years. He shuts his eyes and clasps his hands together in prayer to ask God if tomorrow could be a good day for him and his little family.

He knows Roger will at least try to make the best of it, especially for all of John's effort. 

Certainly, he had been grumpy and apprehensive about Christmas, but he never would want to make John feel bad on his favourite day of the year. 

It will mostly depend on how their kid will behave. Roger has warmed up to Christmas and all of John's efforts, but if he is going to be hurting the way he did two days ago while wrapping the presents, there isn't much to be done but sail through the discomfort until the storm has passed. That's not what John wants for their first Christmas as a couple. Not for the first Christmas Roger ever got without the strains of poverty and his father's abuse. 

So, John prays and at night he holds Roger close. He barely manages to shut an eye with the giddy nerves going through him.

Eventually, he does manage to fall asleep, because he wakes up feeling relatively well-rested and still spooning his boyfriend from behind. John perches himself up on his elbow to look at the alarm clock over Roger's shoulder.

It is a little past ten, which means Brian and Freddie will be here in less than an hour. 

He decides to wake Roger up as gently as he can. He closes his lips against the sleep warm skin of his bare shoulder and trails kisses up to his neck, until he is nuzzling Roger's chin. 

Still praying silently that everything today would be as good as the buildup. 

🎄🎄🎄

Roger wakes up to warm lips on the nape of his neck and a familiar warmth pressed against his back.

The fluttering touches stir him from his sleep, which is unusual, John likes to let him sleep for as long as he can these days. Roger's curls his arm protectively around the swell of his belly while the other swats weakly in John's general direction, as if he is a bothersome fruitfly. But he doesn't try very hard to push him off, even when a large part of him craves another half hour of sleep.

But with John's insisting kisses and the sun streaming into their bedroom, he knows the chances that he will get those extra few minutes are unlikely. 

"Stop it." Roger shivers when John heartlessly pries the sheets away from him. "You're a cruel man."

His t-shirt has ridden up overnight and exposes his popped out belly button and the tightly wound stretch of skin at the underside of his belly. Without the duvet to keep him warm, the patch of skin freezes.

When John kindly tries to pull the hem down it rolls right back up. Another shirt he has outgrown.

Trying a new technique, since the kissing does not seem to work, John lays his hand over Roger's belly and rubs gentle circles over the taut skin until Roger finally gives in and shifts his head to face his nuisance of a boyfriend with a tired scowl. 

"Merry Christmas." He whispers under his breath.

_Oh_. Roger blinks up at him blearily. _It's starting to make sense now._

"Hm." He relaxes a little at that, although he still makes a show of it to sling an arm over his eyes. "Fuck off."

John chuckles heartily and captures Roger's lips in a chaste kiss when he is caught off guard. 

Roger allows the kiss to happen and wash over him. A warm content feeling befalls him and he realizes, despite the dread he had initially felt having to play up his excitement for a holiday that left his skin crawling on a good day, that he is happy that it's Christmas. 

Happily pregnant, with his boyfriend brushing his lips against Roger's pliant ones, nobody in the world matters beyond him and his family. 

Maybe he is uncomfortable, yes. Tired, also yes. But he is in good spirits and when they part. He blinks his eyes open and even manages a real smile. 

"That's not how Jesus would have wanted you to speak to your boyfriend." Is the first thing John decides to say, which does earn him a true swat on the shoulder. 

Roger rolls over— or well, he groans and shifts onto his hands and knees before he can lower himself into a sitting position. "Why don't you go fuck Jesus then." 

"I doubt he's half as fun as you are when you're pregnant." John teases. 

"Hmm. I'm going to kick you three times in the bladder and then we'll talk some more about fun." Roger yawns and stretches out his arms above his head, causing his shirt to ride up again. He can actually hear John lick his lips and scoot up right behind Roger to attach his lips on his neck once again. 

The most delightful spark of pleasure bursts out beneath the skin. Roger sighs and angles his chin to give John more access. John eagerly laps at the skin, altering between soft butterfly kisses and gently nipping at the skin to make Roger gasp.

"It's early." He murmurs dreamily after a good minute has passed by. 

"Brian and Freddie are coming over to help cooking up lunch. That means before noon." 

He and the baby are painfully hungry. "Did you say food?" Roger asks and turns his head towards him, forcing John off his neck to look him in the eye instead.

"Breakfast, yes. With Freddie and Brian, while we prepare for the Christmas lunch." John smiles and brings the hand that had been resting on Roger's shoulder upwards to run through his bed hair. Roger leans back to rest some weight on his hands, rather than his already overstrained spine. This pushes his stomach out more, and John's eyes dart down to the curve. 

He presses a lingering kiss to Roger's cheek and sighs, so fucking earnestly. "You're beautiful." 

Roger shoves him away with a playful scoff. His heart flutters with delight. "Fuck off with that Christmas spirit crap." 

"You're beautiful and you're mine." John winds his arms around him and smacks an obnoxious kiss onto his mouth. Roger splutters and laughs. "And it's Christmas."

"How will I ever survive?" Roger asks, but deep inside he is ablaze and so utterly happy. If that's what Christmas is, then he doesn't want it to ever go away.

🎄🎄🎄

Brian and Freddie arrive thirty minutes late when John is already serving their omelettes on the plates and Roger has been eagerly anticipating. 

Their two friends enter the home in a flurry of ugly sweaters, long hair, wrapped up gifts and bright smiles. 

"Happy Christmas John." Freddie kisses John on the cheek just as he comes out of the kitchen holding two plates. Freddie flops down on John's usual spot on the couch right next to Roger, but Roger is too busy making grabby hands for his breakfast to tell Freddie he knows damn well John always sits there. And instead snuggles into the crook of Freddie's arm. 

John bites back a sigh and hands Roger his eggs, then Freddie the other plate. 

"Happy Christmas to you too." He quickly walks back towards the kitchen with the final two dishes for him and John. He waits for Brian to sit down in the armchair next to the couch before handing it over. "What kept you two up for so long?"

John could sit on the chair all the way across the room, but it would be a pity to part so far from his family, so he sits on his knees by the coffee table, close to Roger and the baby.

Roger immediately digs into the eggs and shovels spoon fulls into his mouth.

Freddie is too busy grinning at Roger to answer John, so John turns his attention to Brian, who has the decency to explain.

"I was feeling a little peachy and Fred couldn't find his Rudolph sweater."

Roger elbows Freddie in the side. "Could have come without the reindeer sweater."

"There is only one day every year that I can wear it and I will not miss out on the opportunity, besides, Brian was an absolute wreck. I suggested he sleep in and join us when the turkey and everything was ready," Freddie shrugs, although he eyes Brian suspiciously, as if to check that he isn't falling apart at the seams just yet. "But he insisted on coming now."

"You do look a bit pale, Bri. Are you okay?" Roger leans forward as much as he can to take a good look at him.

He looks like he could use a good lie down. There are bags under his eyes, he looks worn down and white as a sheet compared to his obnoxious red Santa sweater. 

In true Brian-style, he waves their concerns away with a dismissive hand gesture and continues to poke aimlessly at his eggs. His paleness transforms into green, but nobody has the heart to comment on it again, aside from John, who promises it is fine if he can't finish it.

The baby is a lot happier now that they have eaten and curls up contently, but with his uterus pushing against his stomach he feels uncomfortably stuffed and needs to lie backwards with his feet up to get through the sensation. 

At least he seems to be doing better than Brian, who looks one second away from vomiting the five spoonfuls of egg he had managed to eat. 

"This alright now, dear?" Freddie asks after having fluffed up Roger's pillow.

He is always utterly careful with him when he is pregnant. He treats him like a delicate piece of art, something that would have bothered Roger had it been anyone else, but from Freddie he can tolerate it.

"I'm fine now, thanks." Roger smiles and runs his hand down his curved belly. "There's just not much room in there now, for anything, really." Roger leans in and not-so-discreetly whispers, "Can't do all sex positions anymore either. Just feels like one thing to many sometimes."

Even across the room, bend over the Christmas tree, John could hear what he had said. 

"Why must Freddie know every single aspect of our relationships?" 

"Because I know every single aspect of his." Roger grins and bumps his shoulder into Freddie's.

John turns away with a sigh, but Roger hadn't missed the way his eyes softened seeing them sitting cozied up together. 

He ends up bringing their share of the presents to the coffee table so they can unpack their presents together before they start on the Christmas lunch. From what Roger had understood, presents were usually exchanged on boxing day, but with Brian and Freddie going to the Mays to celebrate it together there, they had decided to give each other their presents today. 

As expected, Roger and John are mostly gifted things for the baby, which Roger gladly accepts. 

They get a book about safe baby handling tips, some muscle relaxing bath salt for Roger, John gets a diaper bag— which makes sense because Roger will not be carrying one around after carrying the baby for nine months, they also get a framed picture of the baby's first sonogram and a matching ugly Christmas sweater set, including a tiny version for the baby.

"Thank you both." Roger knows that all the practical gifts had come from Brian and the more obscure ones from Fred. A perfect balance. He even makes the effort to get up and give Brian a hug himself when it seems he is too sickly to move an inch himself. "Quite impressed with how good these are, aren't you John?" 

John just finishes thanking Freddie when he turns to Roger and agrees full-heartedly. 

"Really nice of course, not quite as great as ours, obviously."

"Obviously." Roger grins. 

Freddie rolls his eyes and sits back on the couch. He clasps his hands in his lap. He has taken to sitting on the armrest of Brian's chair, stroking his face gently, keeping a very close eye on him. "I think we will be the judge of that."

"On you the honours, Deacks." Roger says, gesturing for John to hand over the presents to Brian and Freddie. But not before sneaking a kiss from Roger. 

🎄🎄🎄

Brian has been acting weird around him ever since he announced that he was pregnant. 

He has been a friend of Rogers longer than Freddie or John and had always loved the idea of kids.

As Roger got more noticeably pregnant and uncomfortable, but also happier, Brian had continuously swung between keeping his distance from Roger to slobbering all over him like a sad, touch starved dog in need of attention. 

His odd behavior had therefore not stood out during the gift exchange, especially not combined with the bug he seems to have caught.

Roger does grow suspicious when Brian has been hiding away in the bathroom for well over ten minutes and Roger's own bladder is starting to bug him and cannot be bothered using the upstairs one. 

"Bri." Roger knocks on the bathroom door again, but this time with no intention on leaving. "Pregnant man who needs to take a leak here." 

Brians voice comes out weak and slightly slurred, which only worries Rog more. 

"Just need a second."

"Okay." Roger agrees and then contrasts, "I'm coming."

"No, Rog, I'm a mess right now, don't come—" He protests weakly, but Roger has already pushed his way inside the bathroom.

He finds Brian hunched over the toilet, looking absolutely fucking bad. Roger cringes at the colour of his skin. A pasty white green-ish mix. "You alright?" He asks lamely.

"Please, shut the door." Brian murmurs into the bowl miserably. 

He does without needing to be told twice. He shuts the door behind himself and steps closer to Brian when his friend deliberately hides his face from him. Roger closes the distance and puts a comforting hand on Brian's shoulder. 

His entire body is slumped over and shivering on the cold tiles. If Roger still had the ability, he would have forced Brian upright, but right now he is at the mercy of Brian's will to cooperate. 

"Will you tell me what's going on?" Roger asks finally. "You've been acting weird all day."

The look on Brian's face implies he still hesitates. Roger squeezes his shoulder again with an insisting pout he hopes will do the trick. "Please."

Brian squeezes his eyes shut and he turns his head away towards the bowl. 

Finally, he sucks in a deep breath and blurts out what has been weighing on his chest. "W-we have been trying for some time now." 

Roger blinks down at his dumbly, not sure what he means, until Brian clears his throat and gestures at Roger's immense stomach. 

"Oh." Roger blinks again. Then he realizes. " _Oh_." 

Brian won't meet his eyes. He gulps tightly. "I don't want to get his hopes up." 

It takes a lot of effort, but Roger forces himself to kneel down with a grunt and huff so he can sit on the floor next to Brian. It feels a little inappropriate that his belly is pressed up between them, but there is no space for it elsewhere. 

He wraps an arm around Brian's shoulder and gives him a squeeze. "Hey, Bri. C'mon what's that sad face for? It's Christmas." 

"We've been trying." 

"Right..." 

Tears are swimming in his eyes when Brian finally does look at Roger. His heart breaks at the sight and his pregnancy hormones cannot be expected to deal with this without a lump forming in his throat too. "It's all we've wanted for months, we've tried everything. We have seen countless of doctors and therapists and yoga instructors. It's all scheduled sex and disgusting diets and appointments and ovulation diaries— and pills and. Fuck. You got it on the first try!" 

_I got it by accident_. Roger thinks, but he knows better than to rub that in. 

Instead, he winds his other arm around Brian too and pulls him into a tight hug. 

"I'm sorry." He says earnestly with his lips against Brian's temple. "I didn't... I didn't know you guys were trying." Roger shuts his eyes. "If I'd known—" 

Brian and Freddie have been obsessed with Roger and the baby. Both in very different ways, of course, but it all makes perfect sense now. Freddie had kept on asking to touch Roger up all the time, while Brian was always asking questions or trying to come along to doctors appointments. There was always a sadness in Brian's eyes that Roger couldn't place, but it had always come mixed with hope. 

Hope...

"Stay here, I—" Roger heaves himself up again-- his spine hurts at being straightened and his knees protest under all of the added weight, but Roger keeps going, while using the toilet for support. "I've got a test laying around here somewhere." 

Brian's eyes wide with panic. "Roger. I don't know if I want to know." 

"It's either being anxious all day, or knowing once and for all." Roger presses gently, "And it will only be so long before Freddie might come to the same conclusion. Isn't it better to know?"

Brian still seems unsure, so Roger keeps pushing.

"I will be right here with you the whole time. You need to know at some point, right?" Roger presses a little gentler now.

He pauses and then says, "And who knows, maybe this is about to become the best Christmas of your life."

That at least seems to have done the trick. Brian gives the nod of approval for Roger to go grab the tests from upstairs. Roger does not leave the bedroom without flushing the toilet and promising Brian he will be right back. 

🎄🎄🎄

When Brian and Roger enter the kitchen together, John and Freddie have already gotten started on the Christmas meal. John checks on the turkey he had put in the oven first thing in the morning, while Freddie is chopping the potatoes.

They both turn around as soon as they hear the shuffles of their feet. 

John goes for Roger and Freddie immediately wraps himself around Brian with a worried frown. 

"Are you two alright?" Freddie brushes imaginary dust off of Brian's shoulders and peers up into his eyes. "You were gone for a long time."

Roger can hardly contain the enormous grin threatening to split across his face. "Splendid, aren't we Bri?"

"Yes." Brian is sporting a dazed smile on his pink face, the paleness all gone. "Yes. Very much."

John and Freddie share a look. But neither of them are wiser than the other and they each end up shrugging. "... Good."

"Why don't you both sit down while Freddie and I prepare the rest of the food. Shouldn't be more than half an hour now."

Roger is ushered into one of the chairs and admittedly, walking up and down the stairs to fetch Brian the pregnancy tests had tired him out. He gladly waits for John to pull a chair back and support him down. 

He turns his chin up for a kiss, feeling a flutter of overjoy for Brian and what's to come for them (minus the wretched morning sickness). 

The baby agrees with a spontaneous kick up the kidneys. Just as John pulls back from the kiss he winces in pain. "You alright?" He smooths his hand down Roger's belly, but he couldn't possibly feel the extent of the onslaught the kid brings on Roger's vital organs. 

"Perfectly fine," Roger assures him with another chaste kiss. "Just your child being a menace." 

"My child? I don't know what you're on about. My child is a model baby."

They smile at each other for a long moment. John's hand is a comfortable weight on Roger's belly and the load of his happiness fills up every nook of doubt or discomfort Roger could ever worry about. 

The only reason they break apart is by a frustrated groan from Freddie, who is trying to drag Brian into a chair as well.

"Bri, please you're sick, you ought to sit down."

"I'm perfectly healthy." Brian promises and Roger sees his hands twitch by his sides, as if he struggles to resist touching his still-flat stomach. He shuts his eyes and kissed Freddie insistently. "I can hardly leave all the work to you two."

Freddie still looks very sceptical, but the happiness that radiates off of Brian can be felt even across the table where Roger is sitting. With a sigh, Freddie gives in and let's go of the chair he had pushed out for Brian. 

"Fine, but nothing too straining."

"Of course not." Brian grins. "I'll just set the table and put a record on."

Freddie exhales again. Roger's grin matches Brian's. He wonders how insufferably unbearable Freddie will be when he finds out. 

John catches his look, of course, and raises a questioning eyebrow. 

"Another time." Roger promises and John believes him. 

Roger spends the next thirty minutes watching the other three bustle around the kitchen, while he sits at the dinner table with his hands folded over his belly. 

Jazzy Christmas music sweeps from the living room into their space like a happy murmur. The baby appreciates it, an insisting tickle from the inside of his tummy makes him suppress a very manly giggle. Luckily the others are too occupied to notice Roger trying to coax the baby with some pressure into doing anything but whatever they are doing right now. 

John is slathering herbs and butter over the golden turkey, while Freddie fries the brussels sprouts with the bacon and chestnuts in a pan. 

Brian finishes decorating the table, all with candles and pretty Christmas themed napkins. 

It has only been a couple of hours since breakfast, but Roger is positively starving and steals at least five pigs in a blanket from the platter when the others are distracted. 

The baby likes the bacon-wrapped sausages and eventually stops tickling Roger's insides and goes back to the usual kidney kicks he's been forced to get accustomed to.

When dinner is finally served, the aroma of turkey and roasted potatoes has Roger's mouth watering. 

John is beaming with pride when he cuts through the turkey with smooth easy, causing juice to flow out of the sides. 

"Oh Deacky, that's better than a marriage proposal I think." Roger murmurs without tearing his eyes away from the generous portion John cuts up for him. 

"You're really that easy?" John hands him the plate, grinning. 

Roger licks his lips and brings the dish close to his nose to inhale sharply. The warm scent curls up into his flared nostrils and his stomach growls. 

Freddie gives John a nudge. "He absolutely is not! I will not have him say yes without a ring around his finger and you down on your knee."

John begrudgingly agrees and goes on to cut some turkey for everyone, while Freddie makes sure everyone has some potatoes and sprouts, Brian pours everyone a drink. There is gravy and cranberry sauce for the turkey, Roger takes both, although he uses more cranberry than any of the others, but he doesn't mind their judgemental gazes.

Eventually, they all do manage to settle down to enjoy their meal. 

John sits at Roger's left, while Brian and Freddie sit on the other side of the table. 

"A toast, to our first real Christmas as a family." Roger raises his wine glass (that contains grape juice) and pointedly looks them all in the eye once, before lingering on Brian. "And to new beginnings."

John covers Roger's hand with his on top of his belly, before picking up his glass to clack them together. "To new beginnings."

Brian and Freddie echo the toast and Roger smiles brightly when Brian gives Freddie a feverish kiss. 

After they all have their first sips of wine and not-wine, John gives them the blessing to dig in. 

The turkey tastes as delicious as it smelled coming out the oven. Roger moans around every forkful, cranberry juice and gravy dribbling everywhere. 

"I think this is the greatest form of flattery, but I am also a little scared." John jokes.

Roger weakly punches his shoulder with his fork-free hand and promptly tells him to shut up. 

Everything else tastes just as amazing as the turkey. The potatoes are perfectly roasted and the brussels sprouts are finely flavoured with the chestnuts and bacon. Roger is happy they have a small break planned between this meal and dessert, because he already feels like he's going to burst at the seams. 

John is a solid presence beside him and happily lets Roger lean against him when the pregnancy combined with the food weight becomes too much. 

He lulls out of the conversation a little bit, which has drifted over to John Fahey's recently released Christmas album and has been all over the radio for a week now. Usually he is very outspoken about records and the capitalist schemes of Christmas, but the good food and pretend wine have made him drowse.

John gives him a little nudge. "You alright?" He asks softly, while Brian and Freddie are still heatedly discussing what the best records of the year were in general. Brian really likes the new Fleetwood Mac and Paul Simon, while Freddie keeps gushing over Bob Marleys live album and Elton John's most recent one. 

Roger personally listened to Physical Graffiti all year around without ever growing bored of it, but he did put David Bowie's Young Americans on repeat for hours an odd occasion. 

He almost forgot the question John had asked moments ago, he blinks up at him, as he is using John's shoulder as his makeshift pillow. 

"I'm happy." He whispers back, smiling earnestly, in a way that he hopes looks more playful than the sappiness he feels spilling all over. He rolls his eyes at himself. "This has been good, so far."

"So my Christmas has a stamp of approval?" John asks.

"So far." Roger says, smoothly putting him back into place, before joining the conversation with Freddie and Brian again. "Oh God no, Kiss is not in the top 50 best songs of the year, let alone top ten. _Please_."

The conversation soon moves over to the living room. 

They leave their plates and everything to clean up later so they can all gather around the television to watch the royal Christmas broadcast by Queen Elizabeth. 

None of them care half a much as Freddie who tells them all to shush up when God Save the Queen begins to play. She looks like a right mannequin, stiff and cold, reading of a script or teleprompter behind the single camera. Nothing about it comes off as natural, warm or particularity regal. Roger pulls a face. John snickers. 

At least she mentions the terrible inflation and record number of unemployment in the country. Although Roger is unconvinced it has struck a chord inside of her. 

Roger can't quite remember ever seeing one of these before. Although he successfully manages to imitate her after the speech.

"Then Christmas comes," He says in her pinched accent. "And once again we are reminded that people matter."

John and Brian laugh heartily, but Freddie wags a finger at Roger. "I will not have you slander the Queen like that. She would never say something like that."

"She just did!" Roger cackles. "I just copied what she said."

"She did not!" Freddie's face goes pink and he turns to Brian. "Did she?"

Brian nods sadly.

They all laugh again, but Freddie with his face hidden in his hands. Roger can tell his shoulders are shacking with laughter too. 

After the royal broadcast is over, they all find a spot on the couch or around the armchair. Roger is sloughed over like an over baked potato and John even manages to snag the spot next to Roger for himself. 

They snuggle up next to each other, while Brian finds himself sitting on the armchair again while Freddie fetches the Christmas crackers and hands everyone one. 

"This might just be the weirdest part of Christmas so far." Roger states while they make a circle with each other, holding the ends of each cracker in their hands so their hands are all interlinked. "Who came up with this?" 

"Santa or something!" Freddie grins, "Now, you know how it works. The person who has the most cracker in their hands after pulling wins everything that's inside."

Roger is happy with the recap and nods along with the others to show he understood. 

"Great, now on the count of three. One. Two. Three!"

Roger pulls as hard as he can on both ends of the crackers he is holding. He loses the one he has with John, but he wins the one with Freddie and quickly holds up the end of the cracker to show Freddie that he definitely has the longer end. 

"Alright, alright!" Freddie gives in with a huff and lets go, so Roger can look at the toy and the paper crown inside.

Roger's grown is bright yellow and slightly crooked. The present is a mini compass keychain.

He holds it up to John with a bright smile. "Look what I got."

John examines the tiny compass with an impressed smile, before lamely showing off the paperclip that he had won. "I think I win this one."

"Whatever you say, Deacky." Roger unfolds his crown for him, green, and puts it on top of John's head where it belongs. "There. We match now."

He is pulled into a kiss again, but this one is slow and tender. Roger can still taste their dinner on John's lips and he knows John can feel the baby happily kicking where their fronts are pressed against one another. 

Roger's blinks his eyes open when John pulls away moments later, but only because Brian comes out of the kitchen with the Christmas pudding, wearing a bright smile and a red paper crown. "Who is still hungry?"

Roger's stomach growls on cue.

He rolls his eyes when both John and Freddie lean over to pet his bump. 

🎄🎄🎄

"...So?"

John is already in bed when Roger steps out of the steamy bathroom in his pajamas. Roger heaves himself onto the mattress with a grunt. 

"So?"

"So, did I deliver?" John waits and pulls the duvet back over them both when Roger is situated against the pillows. "Did I deliver the perfect Christmas?"

Roger curls himself into John arm and snuggles up to his warmth. 

John sighs and brushes his nose and lips against Roger's forehead. He presses his stomach against John's flat stomach and lets the baby rest between them. Quiet and content now that Roger is laying down next to his boyfriend and well fed. 

He puts a hand over his stomach and smooths down imaginary wrinkles out of his shirt.

John silently follows the same pattern with familiar ease. 

Roger sighs and turns his face into John's shoulder to muffle his confession with his lips pressed to soft skin. 

"I'd be no better than my father to deny Christmas into our home." He huffs. _Fuck it._ He props himself up on his elbow to gaze down at John. "I don't want to deny our baby any of the things I was denied for so long. It wouldn't be fair to them. It wouldn't be fair to you or myself either." 

He finishes his speech with a sigh. 

John's eyes glisten with delight and he trails his hand down the side of Roger's face. "So...?"

"So, yes, for Gods sake, yes," Roger smacks his head with a pillow when John erupts into a series of chuckles. "You delivered the perfect Christmas, arsehole."

John can't stop laughing and continues to accept the pillow attack for a few moments longer, until he reaches over the nightstand to turn the lights off and he gathers Roger's wrists in his hands to pin him down for a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, happy holidays dears, be safe, wise and careful today and tomorrow and always ❤️


End file.
